


The Shape's Calling

by EternalDemure



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: BDSM, Begging, Bloodplay, Blow Jobs, Choking, Consensual Kink, Crying, Deepthroating, Dom/sub, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Kink Discovery, Master/Pet, Master/Slave, Obedience, Oral Sex, Original setting, Physical Abuse, Rough Kissing, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sensory Deprivation, Serial Killers, Sexual Slavery, Sexual Tension, Stockholm Syndrome, his killer name is just the shape, i literally have no plan for this, lets see where it goooess, michael lowkey enjoys her presence, no one knows michaels name in this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:54:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23314240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EternalDemure/pseuds/EternalDemure
Summary: Lucy and her friends have stumbled across an unfortunate situation. When Lucy finds herself face to face with the man craving her death, she decides succumbing to him like a pet might be her only chance at survival.Intrigued by her immediate submissiveness, Michael Myers decides to put his new toy to the test. But what neither of them expect is how easily Lucy falls into her new role as a serial killer's slave--and how much pleasure she finds in it.
Relationships: Michael Myers/Original Female Character(s), The Shape/Original Female Character
Comments: 11
Kudos: 38





	1. To Her Knees

I opened my eyes to darkness, and the pressing knowledge that I needed to get out of here, as quickly as possible.

My head throbbed, sending slivers of pulsing pain through my temples. I gasped when my hand found a warm wetness covering my hair. Vaguely, I remembered a man with dark-rimmed glasses forcing my gaze to meet his. “Hide, Lucy,” he’d whispered to me. “He’s coming.”

I remembered hiccupping as he ran away with the others. I knew he’d meant for me to follow him down into the other room, but they were too fast. My brain what still struggling to process everything that was happening and then—darkness. There was darkness as I’d opened a chest and stumbled desperately into it. And by the way by body was in a crumbled knot now, it seemed as if I was still inside it.

A pained scream suddenly tore through the house, making me whimper noisily. _Quiet, Lucy,_ I ordered myself. _Be quiet._ But my body wouldn’t listen, and nor would my mind. Heavy breathing pulsed through my throat, sweat beading at my lip mixing with the tears already starting to fall from my eyes. The screaming continued as I squeezed myself tighter against the bottom of the wooden chest.

The screaming continued until, suddenly, it didn’t.

“Oh god,” I whispered into my palm. Unkempt hair tickled at my cheek, but I made no move to brush it away. Several quiet seconds passed with my heavy heartbeat as the only sound in my line of hearing. I would have stayed here forever if it hadn’t been for the crippling throb of my head. I needed to bandage this wound up now if I didn’t want to be in trouble—painkillers wouldn’t hurt either, if I could get my hands on some. But that meant… I brushed my fingers against the wood in charge of my current safety.

That meant I had to leave. To get out _there,_ where the screams were.

I whimpered again at the thought, sniffling away the crying. I just needed to get some bandages, and then I could come right back here. The others would get help. They were smarter than I was—athletic. I could trust them to get us out of this situation, right?

With one last, deep breath, I carefully pushed at the chest’s lid, peaking at the dark room outside. It looked like a garage of sorts, with tools strewn about counters and a steel table. I couldn’t immediately spot anything worthy of covering up my head wound, but the room seemed quiet, and empty. It wouldn’t hurt to check.

The wood creaked as I opened the rest of the lid, letting it rest on a rack behind me. Warm air enveloped my skin, a soothing thing in comparison to how stiff my limbs had gotten inside of my six-walled constraints. I slowly unbent each one, moaning quietly at the pain it caused, and pulled myself out.

I made my way directly to the back of the room, feathering my fingers over the soft tools as I ran my gaze across the room. There had to be something I could use here. There _had_ to be, because not even a head injury could tempt me enough to head out in the rest of this house. Not alone, at least, and especially not when there was a psycho on the loose inside of it.

There! On the wall! A bright red first aid kit.

I hurriedly made my way around the steel table, over to the wall. When I opened the bag, I was relieved to find everything I needed lying right inside of it. Or so I thought—I’d never exactly had to deal with a head wound before.

I practically ripped open the bottle of water once I spotted it inside. My throat felt as if there was sand sprinkled inside of it, so I took three, big gulps before splashing the rest of the liquid over my wound to cleanse it. I tossed it back in when it was empty and reached for a piece of bandage.

Suddenly, the scuff of a boot sounded from the other room. I could hear the clear pit-pat of footsteps walking my way, each one sending my blood rushing. Breathing heavily, I crouched down behind the table—there were crates piled up underneath, so I couldn’t see a thing but tiny slivers on the other side.

 _The chest._ I had to get back to the chest. But first… I reached over the table as I crawled my way around it to grab a tool. It was soft, lighter than I imagined it to be after I pulled it down to my side. I found out why quickly enough.

Styrofoam! The hammer in my hand was made out of fucking _Styrofoam._ “Are you kidding?” I whispered to myself, reaching for another one. All of them. They were all fake.

Desperately, I made a break for the chest, now that it was in my line of sight. The man wasn’t in the room yet—he didn’t see me. Not as I crawled, and surely not when I threw myself back into hiding. _Safesafesafe._ I was safe for now, and with a bandage in hand. I clenched my hand around it, holding back yet another whimper as the heavy footsteps made their way inside of the room.

Clump. Clump. Clump.

Closer and closer they came to my chest. Walking endlessly until, all of the sudden, they stopped right in front of me. I inhaled deeply, shivers lining my bare arms and legs, until the top was abruptly ripped open. A masked face looked down at me as I shot my gaze up in fear, and yet no scream found its way out of my lips. I was speechless. I couldn’t do anything but whine and shake in terror. Even as he slowly reached down toward me to wrap a large, white hand around the fabric on my tank top.

The Shape yanked me out of the chest and threw me carelessly onto the cement. He wanted me to run, I realized when I glanced back to see him watching. He wanted me to run, because he _knew_ he would catch me. There was nowhere to escape him. Nowhere to escape the fate lying behind the bloodied chef’s knife he gripped so naturally in his hand.

And so I did the only thing I could think of, looking at his emotionless, white mask and the spots of blood staining his dark jumpsuit.

I crawled toward him, unable to hold either my pathetic whimpering or my tears.

The shape only stared at me as I moved, stilling when my left cheek came in contact with the hem of clothing hanging at his ankle. Without hesitation, I brushed my hands along this monster’s leg, wrapping myself around it. Clinging. Silently begging until—

“Please.” The word was but a whisper out of my mouth. I pressed my cheek against his leg, not needing to look to know his eyes were glued right onto me. I could feel the knife hanging so close to my head, an ever present threat. He could swipe it over me any second now to force me from his leg. He could end my life in one, quick stab, or make it last an eternity. Desperate, I caressed my body almost lovingly against him, letting my fingers slip up over his thigh. He was so stiff against me that I was certain this was the end.

The warmth of his hand pressed against my head, one of his fingers so close to my wound I had to bite back a hiss. It simply lay there for a few seconds, turning me into stone, until he dragged it over my hair, my neck, and over my shoulder. Chills followed his touch and, mixed with it, the tiniest taste of desire. When I opened my eyes and flicked them upward, I caught him watching me, head cocked ever so slightly.

And then his hand on my shoulder gripped hard as he shoved me off of him.

A noise escaped me as I fell, horrified at the sight before me. I couldn’t die this way. I couldn’t die at all. I didn’t want to. With one last look, the Shape turned slowly on his heel toward the counter, aiming to walk around the table. I swiped a hand at my cheek, rubbing away the tears, and crawled back toward him.

“Please,” I whined again, unsure of what, exactly, I was begging for. There was no other way out. I couldn’t follow the same fate as my friends.

The Shape continued his walk, even as I gently touched his calf, struggling to keep up. To get him to stop, so I could be near him again, too close for him to hurt. When we finally _did_ stop, I practically crashed into his legs, hurrying to caress him again.

I stilled when a sharp and cold point found its way to my chin. Slowly, I moved my gaze up to his masked face as he lowered himself into a crouch. He pressed the knife against my skin, forcing my head up as he shifted close. The smell of metallic pine reached me nose, an intoxicating thing. And then, fast as lightning, the hand wielding his knife swung up into an arc. Darkness spotted my gaze as the hilt met ruthlessly with my head.


	2. Hello, Darkness

What did I get myself into? Those were the first words that processed through my head as I came to for the second time today.

My cheek felt frozen, flattened on the cement floor, and my body ached as I pealed myself off of it. I groaned, another throb of pain pulsing from my head. My vision spun as I slowly opened my eyes to take in my surroundings. There was soft light here, coming from the other side of the pillar I was sitting behind. When I crawled over to see around it, a gasp escaped me at the sight.

A long, square grate hung from the ceiling, under the light. And, from that, dozens and dozens of sharp, dirty hooks sat waiting for their prey.

_For me._

I looked away, quickly, only for my eyes to fall on a single piece of pipe sitting on the floor in front of me. A weapon perhaps, for someone who was strong enough to wield it against the monster of the man I’d seen… Upstairs? This room was quite obviously a basement, if the short, covered windows close to the ceiling told me anything. But was I in the same house I’d been in when I'd been found? Was I even in the same area, or another completely?

Were the others alright?

There had been… Two. No, _three_. Did one of them make it out of the Shape’s grasp? If so, help might be on their way any second now. I just needed to tough things out while they made their way over. _Or,_ another, more sinister part of my brain taunted. _Perhaps they’ve already come and gone. Who knows how long you’ve been out?_ I refused to believe it. I couldn’t die, not this young. I would make it out of here and everything would be okay again. I looked at the pipe again but, this time, I noticed something else too.

Directly in front of it, sitting in the shadows at the far end of the room with his legs spread wide, was a figure. Though his body was nearly completely camouflaged in the darkness, the white mask he wore gave his identity away like sore thumb. I barely stifled a gasp at the sight. I could feel his gaze burning itself into my skin all the way from here. Though I couldn’t see the glint of his chef’s knife, it was difficult not to notice how massive he appeared even from this distance.

The suffocating feeling of power radiated off of him again, crushing me under without a second’s thought. How had the word _weapon_ come across my mind when I’d first seen the pipe? No frail pipe could stop this man from doing whatever the hell he wanted to me.

As if reading my thoughts, the Shape slowly pushed himself up from his chair. I was pleased to see I’d been right about the knife; it was nowhere in sight, but the pure essence of him felt as if he held it nonetheless. The Shape was no less powerful without an object at his side: he was his own weapon.

His heavy boots clunked on the cement as he took a step forward, then two, and three. I could feel my heart pounding harder in my chest with each one. He walked threateningly toward me as I sat helplessly on the floor, moving slightly faster until he suddenly came to a stop just in front of me. Though his eyes were pit-less holes of black behind the mask, the way he stared down at me sent a rush of heat to my stomach. He was waiting for something, but I couldn’t make out what that was.

Not until he lifted a single, black boot above me, that was.

Ever so slowly, like a viper observing its prey, the Shape cocked his head and pressed the bottom of his boot against the side of my head. In a flash, he forced it toward the ground, ripping the breath from lungs with the movement. I snapped my eyes shut, expecting to feel cold cement slam against my cheek, but the hit never came. After a moment of catching my breath, I finally opened my eyes again, surprised to see my gaze was now hovering but inches from the rusty pipe sitting on the floor. _He wants me to take it,_ I realized. _Why?_

The boot against my head pushed me closer toward it, confirming my thoughts. Carefully, I did as I was told. I pulled my right hand up along my side, wrapping my fingers around the metal. Immediately, the Shape released me from my position, cool air replacing the area where his boot had previously been. He observed me as I sat back onto my hips and gazed up at him questioningly, pipe in hand. I couldn’t tell what he wanted. I knew he liked the game—to chase. To prey. But he couldn’t really want me to hit him, could he? I would never even get close to harming him.

Suddenly, the Shape shot out a hand to grip my neck. A shiver ran over my spine as he dug large, strong fingers around it and pulled me to my feet. I choked, forcing a strained breath into my suddenly aching lungs as my feet found the ground again and my neck was released. But the Shape had no mercy. He didn’t give me a second to adjust, or catch my breath. I backed away, arms frozen at my sides, as he marched forward. What would he do to me if I even thought to use the pipe against him? Certainly I would find a worse fate than that of my friends'.

The Shape only stopped once my back smacked against the hard wall. _Hit me,_ he seemed to be ordering. _Try. See how far you’ll get._ It was obvious to anyone looking that this man fed off of control. He loved power. He loved to dominate.

My arm remained limp at my side until he took one, last step forward. Without another thought, I swung the pipe against his head, watching as it snapped to the side while I silently prayed I'd been right in thinking this was what he wanted. The Shape brought a hand up to rub at the wounded area, shifting his body over with it. I could see the door behind him clearly now—all I needed to do was run across the room while he was distracted… But it all seemed too suspicious. Too _easy._

And I’d never been much of a runner, anyway.

My fingers loosened around the pipe. A _clank_ sounded by our feet as it fell from my grip. This wouldn’t be my escape. I would find another way—one that would _work,_ not one that was destined to get me into more danger than I’d already gotten myself in.

I watched as the Shape rubbed painfully at his head for another, short second. Then he straightened, towering over me again as if the pipe’s effect on him had been nothing but an act—something I’d assumed had been his plan all along. Curiously, he cocked his head again, just as he did when I’d been on the ground. I stilled as he lifted a hand up to my cheek, brushing calloused fingers against my soft cheek. Tingles ran over the areas where his fingers trailed up, up, and into my hair. The tingles exploded when he gripped into it, hard, pulling a moan out from my lips with it. It scared me, how good the pain of his hand against my scalp felt. My body unconsciously melted into his grip for a moment, the Shape sharply twisted around. My moans turned into screams as he dragged me forward. Blonde hair fell into my eyes. I barely noticed where he was leading me until I caught sight of a hook hanging off of the ceiling.

He let go of my hair, abruptly, thoughtlessly taking hold of one of my wrists instead. I gazed pleadingly into those pit-less eyes as he tied each of my hands onto the hooks above us. My heels lifted off the ground as he tightened them, rope biting into my skin, forcing me to stand on the tips of my toes. I whimpered, a pitiful sound that would earn me no mercy.

The heat of the Shape’s hand and presence left me for a brief moment. I turned my head just in time to see him pluck a familiar chef’s knife off of the table beside me.

“No,” the word was another whimper from my lips. “ _Please_ , no.”

But the Shape brought it toward me regardless, even as I continued to pointlessly beg. His fingers brushed against the hem of my shirt just as he lowered his mouth close to my ear. Heat radiated off of the chest hovering but a feather’s breath away from my own, intensifying the familiar feeling blooming below my stomach as his fingers slowly pulled my shirt up. I struggled to catch my breath again but, this time, it wasn’t because of anything blocking my air pipe. I'd felt a lot of mens hands on me before, but none of them had affected my body quite as intensely as this. A strange thing, being as I heard him commit unspeakable acts to my own friend not too long ago. I'd obviously taken one too many hits to the head. There could be no other explanation as to why this simple touch felt as alluring as gentleman's seducing.

The Shape’s fingers came to a still between my breasts, keeping my stomach exposed to the air. I could hear him breathing hard behind his mask as well, assuring me that I wasn’t the only one experiencing a thrill from his careful movements. I didn’t think to question anything of it until I felt the pinch of a sharp point pressing itself against my exposed hip.

I gasped softly as the tip of the knife trailed a path over my stomach and back down again. “Please,” I begged again, but a whisper in the Shape’s ear. “Don’t hurt me.”

A soft vibration hummed against my chest in response, just as the knife stilled on a spot just beside my belly button. I held my breath as it curled over the spot—and cried when it dug carefully into my skin.

I threw my head back with a long cry, pain colouring my vision red as the tip continued to dig itself into me. _This is the end,_ the thought rang into my ears like a bell only I could hear. _This is it._ But, just as quickly, I felt it stop moving. The Shape pulled his head away from where it had hovered near my neck. I felt the knife pull out of me with a single swipe, utterly surprised to see only an inch of blood covered its tip when the Shape lifted it above my mouth. It had felt like much more of it had been cutting inside of my skin—I’d thought he was at least halfway through.

The steel was warm and wet as he pressed the pad of the weapon over my lips. Trying and failing not to focus on the pain, I somehow managed to keep the man’s gaze as I forced my tongue to dip outside of my mouth. A metallic taste burst over my tongue as it connected with the steel, giving it a single swipe before I slowly pulled it back into the safety of my mouth. The both of us stood still in our places for but a few quiet breaths, until the Shape abruptly pulled himself away from me, taking his god-awful knife with him. It clanked against the table once as he quickly walked by it, leaving me alone in a room of suffocating darkness.


End file.
